


Fuck the Police

by ATinyFlickeringLight



Category: We Happy Few (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Arthur, Consensual Sex, M/M, Omega Verse, Sweet, because fiction is better than reality, but it's fanfiction so I get to create good boys and worlds that get better and happiness, despite this soft fic I still hate cops, like IRL this would be highly unrealistic because ACAB, like arthur has sex with a cop and it's fun and good but meatspace cops are still bastards, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24545878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATinyFlickeringLight/pseuds/ATinyFlickeringLight
Summary: In an alternate universe, a group of rebels overthrew the government and destroyed the joy factories. The bad news is that the joy pills doubled as blockers for the good citizens of Wellington Wells, and without them, the citizens have to deal with their newly unrepressed urges. The good news is that the bobbies and doctors are here to help, trading their weapons for more...intimate duties to their citizens.First chapter is buildup, second chapter is sex.
Relationships: Bobby/Arthur Hastings (We Happy Few)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	1. Trust is not given, but earned

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I enjoy alpha/omega fics, I wanted to challenge myself to take the basic parts and make them softer and sweeter. In this universe, bobbies and doctors are alphas while the common people are omegas. an important detail is that BOTH keep their wits about them during heat and rut, though they do get distracted. it's more "I'm stuck doing X when I want to be having sex and I'm so fucking horny" distraction rather than "I NEED TO BONE OR I WILL EXPLODE" distraction.
> 
> the point is, everyone in this fic is in a good state of mind and is fully able to consent without any issues. 
> 
> also omegas get hungee

It was a full-time job dealing with the consequences of a full-blown revolution, especially given the side effects on the Wellies under his care. To put it simply, they were horny as rabbits. Smith thanked his lucky stars that there were no children or teenagers or, Hell, even anyone under 25 for that matter! Because of that, he was able to help anyone who wanted him to. He didn't have to sit back and let anyone suffer.

In other words, the bobby had been having the time of his life relieving their...urges. The side effects of Joy withdrawal were easily lessened when the Wellies indulged their urges with the bobbies, and he was grateful that he and his squad had been gifted with an impressive amount of stamina. Before the revolution, this had served as a means to hunt down and beat the ever-loving shit out of downers, but now? Now, every constable and Joy doctor in the city was using their gifts for good. Smith himself had never had to beat anyone up, thankfully, finding any excuse he could to patrol areas he knew no downer would tread. His friends gave him a hard time for being “too soft” or whatever, but he simply couldn't bring himself to hurt the poor citizens. It was selfish, he knew. Spare the rod and all that. Still, it made him feel good whenever a citizen felt safe enough for him to assist them, now more than ever. The kind of assistance the constables and doctors were providing nowadays required an immense amount of trust, and he could rest easy knowing that he'd earned that trust.

He whistled to himself as he patrolled down a back alley with a doctor, looking for any downers who had previously felt the need to hide themselves away. If they didn't come out, their suffering would continue. He'd seen it with his own eyes. A handful of citizens hadn't wanted to have any sexual relations whatsoever, but their bodies had tried to betray them. In response to this, shelters had been made from gutted police stations to house and care for them. A few doctors were working on medicines to, at the very least, curb the urges for those who didn't want to have sex. Citizens with no urges or very few urges were few and far between, but they were usually willing to assist in the research. Unsurprising, as the compensation would result in them being the richest of the rich once all of this settled down!

“Just a moment.” The doctor at his side held out his arm to stop his stride and sniffed the air. “There's one in that house. Christ, how the Hell is it even standing? Half the roof's collapsed in! Better go do your thing, Smith. I'll keep patrolling.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Smith tipped his hat. Dr. Summers was one of the few with no urges, so he always let Smith take this next part. Smith smiled. God, he'd lucked out! With a confident stride, he creaked open the rotting and termit-riddled door and looked inside. “Hello?” He called out, “is anyone there?” No response. A Doctor's nose was never wrong, though, especially with the citizens now freely giving off their scent. He wouldn't be able to smell it until he was close to them, though, so he didn't have that advantage. Slowly, carefully, he made his way into the house. He checked the kitchen, the living room, underneath a crumbling couch, but he couldn't find the person. If they were actively hiding it meant only one thing—they had been a downer before the revolution. Smith felt a pang of sympathy. Whoever he was about to find was more than likely frightened and jumpy, so he would have to be extra gentle with them. As he neared the bathroom, he finally caught a whiff of that wonderful scent. He took a moment to let it fill his senses. It smelled faintly of honey suckle, and it meant whoever was hiding was right behind this door. And this chair. And this...bookcase. Good god, they did _not_ want to be found. It made sense. The revolution had only happened two days ago, so they were likely unaware of the shift in constable duties, especially given how secluded their hiding spot was. Progress in the city had been fast, but progress in the slums had been much slower. Well, no time like the present! He removed the barricade and knocked on the door softly. “Is anybody in there? Are you decent?”

No response, but the scent changed to a bitter, salty one. Fear. Well, honesty was the best policy in these situations. He told whoever was on the other side everything, making sure to keep his tone friendly and not too loud. After his explanation, he still didn't get a response. “Right. I'm coming in, then!” He called before opening the door. He opened it just in time to see the person scramble back and hunch down into the corner of an already small bathtub. The person was a thin man with glasses and dark, messy hair. His face was flushed and his entire body was shaking. The fear was almost unbearably pungent now, reflected in his eyes. That was odd. Usually, citizens who had been downers calmed down after he explained the situation to them, even more-so once they knew the sex was absolutely, completely optional. He slowly walked towards the man, who curled into himself even more. “Hey, now. It's alright. It's okay. What's your name, sir?” he took off his mask and set it down on the floor. Nobody needed to wear them anymore, but almost everyone had agreed that they were a fun fashion statement, so he had kept his. He crouched down next to the tub and extended a hand.

“Stay back!” The man yelled, punching Smith in the face weakly. “Don't touch me!”

“I won't touch you.” Smith affirmed, rubbing his cheek. Joy withdrawal weakened the body the longer one didn't take it, right up until it was out of the body's system completely. There was fire in the man's eyes despite his fear, and Smith ventured a guess that, were he not in such a state, he could have easily overpower him. As it was, he was a scared former-downer whose body desperately wanted something. “Do you want me to escort you to a shelter, or would you like direc--”

“Shut up!” The man hissed. “You think I'll fall for something like that? You think I'm stupid?”

Smith kept his voice calm as he responded. “Sir, you must know your punches don't do much damage right now. Tell me: why would I lie? Why wouldn't I just clobber you here and now?”

“B-because...” the man wrapped his arms around himself protectively. “Because you...you want...you want to...”

“I want to help you.” Smith said, still keeping his voice even. The man had a bruise above one of his eyes and a cut on his cheek. The poor dear probably didn't have the best track record with authority, so his fear and mistrust were justified. Smith sighed. “Alright, tell you what. I'll let you decide. I can stay here with you so that you know I'm not a threat, I can leave and never come back, or I can leave and come back with a bit of food for you. Sound good?” He smiled at the man in the tub, hoping he could hear the sincerity in his voice.

It was a solid minute before the man answered. “Food is good.”

“Splendid!” Smith stood up and clapped his hands together. “I'll be back in a jiffy, good sir! Do you have a preference? Anything in particular?” the man shook his head. “Wonderful! Then I shall bring back something nutritious for you.” As he turned to leave, he heard the man mutter. “Hm? Apologies, sir. Didn't quite catch that.”

“It's Arthur. That's my name. Arthur Hastings.”

“Well, Mr. Hastings, don't you worry. I'll be right back, okay?” The man he now knew was named Arthur pointed a finger at his mask on the floor.

“Don't forget that.” He said quietly.

“Ah, like I said,we don't have to wear 'em anymore. I'll leave it here so I have to come back.” he winked, shut the door, and made his way to the nearest baker.

***

For such a small man, he sure could eat! Smith had come back with a full basket of bread loaves and cheese and it was already halfway eaten. He had to admit, it was cute watching Mr. Hastings let his guard down. The foul odor in the air had dissipated, replaced with the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Even as he ate, it was clear Mr. Hastings was struggling with his urges. His forehead was sweaty, his face was flushed, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. He couldn't keep still as he ate loaf after loaf of bread, washing it down with fresh milk. Once he finally slowed down, he caught Smith looking at him affectionately. “What?” he said through a mouthful of bread.

“Nothing, nothing. Wellies are just cute, is all.” He smiled at him, laughing when he huffed. He finished the entire basket and pushed it back over to Smith. The two of them sat there on the floor, neither saying a thing, until Arthur bit his lip and said, with his eyes averted,

“So...that sort of thing can actually help, huh?” His face somehow grew even redder.

“Hm?” Smith tilted his head. “What ever could you mean?” He said, teasingly.

“Oh, piss off. You know exactly what I mean.” Arthur replied, still not meeting his gaze.

“That I do.” Smith leaned back, supporting himself on his palms. “Did you change your mind?”

“Maybe.”

“I don't work with 'maybes'.”

“Listen!” He whipped his head up to look at Smith with an annoyed expression. “I'm just, I mean, I'm _considering_ it, okay? The pros and cons! On one hand, I'm fairly sure I can trust you and, well, this damned _itch_ is driving me absolutely mad. I can't sleep, I'm horny all the time, I feel this...this _yearning_ to be touched and...”

“And?” Smith felt pity for the man, but he tried not to show it.

“And...you're a bobby. I've never been treated kindly by one of you before. How do I know you won't try to hurt me if I let you, well, you know.” He fidgeted. “And you're so much _larger_ than me! How'm I supposed to relax and enjoy it when you could crush me at a moment's notice?!” He wrapped his arms back around his small frame and looked away. Everything he was saying was true, and Smith couldn't write off any of it. Mr. Hastings was justified in his feelings, had every right to feel the way he did.

But the constable wanted to help. Seeing him here, so small and so helpless, was driving his protective, nurturing instincts wild. He wanted nothing more than to scoop the smaller man up, carry him away somewhere safe, and remove any threat to his well-being. Unfortunately for him, right now, in Arthur's eyes, Smith could very well be that threat. He had to give him some kind of leverage, some way to level the playing field.

And that's when it hit him. “My old baton!” He exclaimed. “Every bobby is issued a baton at the start of their career! I've never used mine, so I left it in my locker back at the station, but I can bring it here and give it to you!” He beamed. Mr. Hastings looked baffled, but not upset at the idea. “If you have my baton, you'll have a way to defend yourself!” Not that he'd need it even a little bit, but if it was enough to assuage his fear, he'd gladly hand over his baton to Arthur. “You do know the best spots on the human body to hit, right?”

“Y-yeah, I do. I...if you're serious about this...fuck it. Yeah. Let's do it.” Arthur was still bewildered. Bobbies had _never_ been nice to him before, and this one not only wanted to hand over his weapon, but was fully committed to helping him satisfy his urge? Things really _had_ changed. He tried not to let it give him hope, but he couldn't help it. A genuine smile crossed his face as he waved goodbye to the constable. “Wait!” he shouted, “I forgot to ask your name!”

“It's Smith, good sir! Constable Smith!”

With that, Arthur crawled onto the lopsided couch and waited, body hot and heart racing, for Smith to return.


	2. What He Was, What He Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even in a porn fic I can't NOT roast the police lmao fuck 'em. fictional cops are the only valid cops no I do not accept criticism. 
> 
> anyway sex happens and it's good because it's my AU and I get to make good boys and kind universes because nobody can fucking stop me

It was big, that was for sure. Arthur had had his fair share of run-ins with batons, but this one seemed especially large. It felt cold in his hands, but he clung to it like a lifeline as constable Smith got undressed. The sun was going down, and in the light from the holes in the walls, door, and ceiling, Arthur had to admit that the man was attractive. He wasn't very muscular, but he was more toned than Arthur, who suddenly felt even smaller next to him. Once he was completely naked, Smith scooted himself so that his back was resting against the couch. He patted his lap and held out his arms, and Arthur got the message. His body was tense as it leaned against the constable's chest, Smith's chin resting atop his head as he unbuttoned Mr. Hasting's shirt, then his undershirt, and then, as if teasing him, his pants and underwear painfully slowly. He was sure Smith would start ramming into him then, but the two of them just sat there for a few moments before Smith put his hand over Arthur's racing heart.

“It's been awhile for you, hm?” The taller man muttered against his ear, running his other hand up and down Arthur's side, holding him close in a surprisingly tender embrace. “You're shaking, Mr. Hastings. You're already leaking. You really were starved, weren't you?”

“Everyone,” he swallowed saliva as Smith brought a hand down to squeeze his backside, “Everyone knows Wellies can't satisfy each other the way constables and doctors can.”

“The way _I_ can.”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I'll have to take extra good care of you, won't I?” Smith kissed where Arthur's neck and shoulder connected, lingering there as he found the smaller man's hole and began to poke and prod it. Just as he had said, it was already slick, wanting desperately to be filled; however, Smith prided himself on his abilities. Simply shoving it in and thrusting over and over wouldn't do, and it wouldn't satisfy Mr. Hastings. A one and done was one thing, but to have his fill and leave would be heartless. He refused, and so he took his sweet time fingering him open, letting his long, slender digits penetrate the sensitive area that only grew more sensitive as he gave it attention. Arthur's breaths were becoming quicker, more shallow, and the hand that held the baton was shaking, fighting to hold its grip. Smith pinched at Arthur's left peck, eliciting a squeak from the bespectacled man. Smith rubbed at the delicate skin as he kissed Mr. Hasting's shoulder, then breathed against his neck. “I always take good care of my citizens.”

“You'd be the first.” Arthur said through shaky breathes. His legs were trembling and it was becoming harder to hold the baton. Oh, god. Oh, god, this felt good. His entire body was warm and he could feel his erection growing. The constable was up to three fingers now, carefully spreading him open. He'd be taking all of that cock past the knot, no doubt, and his instincts were going wild at the thought of being stuffed full, left wholly vulnerable on the constable's dick as he was filled with cum. It wasn't a cautious thought, nor did it fit with his survival up to this point, but if what Smith said was true, then he had nothing to worry about. If he was lying, well, getting a quality shag first wasn't the worst way to go.

Smith could smell the conflicted feelings going on inside Mr. Hastings, and it cut his heart. Come tomorrow or even tonight if he felt like leaving this shack, he would see that the world was different. He would live his life without the fear that had dominated him for so long. He would be allowed to feel every emotion, good and bad and in-between, and feel the sun on his face without ever having to wear a mask again. But now, right now, he had no idea that the world had become a kinder, gentler place, and why should he believe Smith? All previous evidence pointed to an infallible truth—the world does not get better. The world doesn't become kinder, good people don't win, and survival is all one can really ask for. And yet, here he was, arms wrapped securely around Arthur, weaponless and naked and only wanting to fulfill him. That “infallible truth” had been shockingly fragile after all.

“Are you ready, Mr. Hastings?” He lifted him a bit so that he could angle his cock at the man's entrance and waited for the verdict.

“Yes.” Arthur gripped the baton in his hand, ready for this to be the part where he was betrayed, for this to be the part where he was hurt, for this to be the part where he was lied to.

But those parts never came, and they never would, because this was the part where slowly, ever so slowly and with the utmost care, Arthur was lowered onto the constable's dick, inch by inch, until he was fully seated against the knot. His pulse somehow got even faster and he began to pant.

“Are you alright, Mr. Hastings? Am I good to continue?”

“Y-yes, please. Oh, fuck, just do it! Destroy me! I-I need it! I want it!” Arthur shook as his instincts screamed at him to take it, to be consumed and fucked into oblivion.

“I won't destroy you, sir.” Smith placed a kiss on the nape of Arthur's neck and began to roll his hips, thrusting into him slowly, then quickened his pace. He placed both hands on the smaller man's upper thighs and raised and lowered him, deepening the thrusts. The needy moans and quivering lip and the sweet smell of honeysuckle growing more and more potent told him that he was doing a good job. The hot wet feeling that clung to his dick with each thrust inward felt amazing and, without thinking, he brought his teeth down onto Arthur's neck and bit down. It didn't cause any bleeding, but he began to panic the moment he'd realized what he'd done. Shit! Shit shit shit! God dammit! He'd let his instincts get the better of him! He waited for Mr. Hastings to cry out, to struggle against him, but he was silent aside from a surprised gasp. Oh, god. What had he done? “Mr. Hastings, I am so, so sorr—”

“Do it again.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Please.” it was almost a whisper. Arthur's hand reached up to caress Smith's cheek, timidly, awkwardly. “It felt really good. Please, do it again.”

Smith nodded, relief washing over him. The bitter scent of fear was mixed in with the sweet smell of enjoyment. Was this a test? Or was Mr. Hastings attempting to overcome his fear? Either way, the constable obliged.

_You're too soft, Smith,_ his friends had said. _You need to be harsher on them. Why hold back on criminals?_ He couldn't say it back then, but the reason was a simple, unglamorous one: he loved his Wellies. Each and every one. They were his to protect, his to nurture, his to care for. In the past, he would have been referred to as an “alpha.” Alpha instincts ran through him, stirred him forward to do the right thing, and now, without that damned pill in the way, he was in full Protector Mode. Right now, as he bit into his omega and his knot swelled as he came close to release, he was truly what he was supposed to be. A protector and servant of his people, of his Arthur Hastings. Constables had lost their way for a long time, had destroyed the trust of those who they were _supposed_ to protect, had become something vile and evil and awful. Perhaps they had always been that way and they hadn't been lost, but had rather been fed the lie of heroism that was never really theirs. Perhaps the role had never really been about protecting citizens and alphas like him had been given the title for their stamina and determination, not their protective instincts. He would think about and reflect on such things later. If the truth about his job were to be so cruel, he would resign without hesitation. But he wasn't a constable right now. He was Smith. He was an alpha, and there was an omega in his lap who needed him, and by god, he was going to fill that need. He wrapped his hand around the smaller man's hard cock and pumped fast, earning him gasps and moans of pleasure as Arthur quickly came, cum splattering against the dirty floor, baton falling from his hand. After a few more thrusts, Smith pushed into him, knotting him and spilling his seed deep into his ass. He wrapped himself around him and held him close, biting down and closing around him as if shielding him from anything that would dare to harm him.

They stayed like that, still and panting, for a few minutes. During those few minutes, Smith took his teeth off Arthur's neck and began to lick where he had bit. The smell of honeysuckle mingled with the smell of sweat and sex. The bitter smell was gone entirely. Finally, Smith pulled out of Arthur's ass and let the cum spill out. Neither said a word as Smith picked him up and carried him to the tub, running pleasantly cool water. It was hot outside, so the water wasn't too cold. After cleaning him up, Smith carried Arthur to the bedroom, where a blanket that was practically a large rag lay on the floor. He picked it up, easily able to hold Mr. Hastings with one arm, and walked back into the living room. He kept Arthur close to his chest as he got comfortable on the couch and draped the blanket over both of them. Thin hands found there way to the alpha's chest, and a flushed face snuggled against him.

“Thank you.” Arthur's drowsy voice said.

“Any time, Mr. Hastings. Any time.” Smith's equally sleepy voice replied. He held him close, running a hand through his hair as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
